Ice Cream Truck

“Is this an emergency vehicle?” he spat at me before I could say hello.

I slowly turned my head to look up at the rear of Medic 9 towering over us.  Red and yellow chevron stripes, seven multicolored flashing LED lights, snakes and staffs on blue Stars of Life.  I turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.  He was uninjured, unhappy, and a bit unhinged.

“Hello. I’m Mack505. Im a paramedic with the fire department. So why are we here?”

“I can’t take you seriously with that mask on,” he gesticulated at my face.  I waited, and he launched into a tirade.  Poor road conditions, inconsiderate drivers, his job, the police officers, the weather, my partner and I, and somehow the Registry of Motor Vehicles formed a torrent of grievance.

It culminated in “Why are you keeping me here?” screamed at us.  

“I’m not,” was my reflexive reply. “What about you, Officer?”

One word: “Nope.”

He stomped away as we shook our heads.  “Operations, Medic 9. We’re clear.  No patient found.”


Today’s Wayback Machine:

May 29, 2015 – Requalification

May 29, 2014 – Wordless (Thursday)

May 29, 2012 – Carpe Granitum*

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